The Music Department
by whitenightshadows
Summary: Kurt Hummel attends the Music Department of Dalton Academy during his junior year, where he meets the obnoxious Sebastian Smythe and the incredibly talented but rather cold Blaine Anderson. Aloof!Blaine and outspoken!Kurt, whose personality is closer to the one in season 1 rather than season 3. Warning: mild swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hi, everyone! So, as it says in the summary, this story is slightly AU and I want to warn everyone again that Blaine's personality is very different from the canon, so if you dislike that, please note that you've been warned. Also, this is my first fanfiction ever, so any sort of review would be much appreciated. Please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee yet, but I'm working on it.  
**

The Music Department

Another day begins and I'm sure I have every right to say that nothing new is going to happen, just as nothing new has happened in the three months since I'd transferred to Dalton Academy and started my junior year on the Music Department. Luckily, my classmates are still nice and accommodating every time we're having a conversation – except for the majority of the day when they are too busy whispering behind my back. Their constant gossiping is like the gurgling of a brook (given that this brook is underhanded and hostile), only instead of grinding grain, the mill-wheels are crushing my nerves – they refuse to say anything to my face, therefore I have no chance to retort, and this helplessness is driving me up the wall. This silent, passive-aggressive bullying is very different from the one at McKinley, but it's just as trying.

And now, Sebastian Smythe (_Seb_ to his mindless followers) is heading my way to ruin my mood with one of his friendly comments, no doubt. Great.

"So, are you ready for Warblers practice, Kurt? We all know how much you like flamboyant show tunes and I'm worried whether you enjoy being in an a capella group at all… I fear you don't like it. In fact, rumour has it you're only harmonizing with us because it's obligatory to join the Warblers on the music department. I know you're having some hardships adjusting and I wanted you to know that I'm always here for you if you need any help." _As if. _I have to ask for his help just once and the next day the whole school would be talking about the ridiculous mistakes I made or the easy lines I couldn't get right.

"Thank you, but I'm actually improving really quickly. You know I save a lot of time by not styling my hair to resemble a chipmunk and not taking the 'How to smirk annoyingly' class every other day 'cause I don't have real friends to hang out with, instead I practice, so I'm confident I'll be getting a solo real soon now." Bull's eye. First he touched his hair while I was talking, then he looked positively frightened when I mentioned I'd be surpassing him in no time (because he's not the Warblers' main soloist either). When he realized I was mocking him, his face turned red with anger and, as the mature adult he is, he stormed out. This day might just take a turn for the better.

But no one should get this conversation wrong, there's no chance that either of us will give up and admit defeat. No, we'd rather keep fighting this endless war; we banter and insult each other, but mostly we're just killing time and waiting for something to come and solve this impossible situation.

"Could you move your chair please? I'd like to sit down." I know this frigid, formal voice all too well, too; this is Blaine Anderson, the celebrity of Dalton. He's been singing ever since he was very young and he's actually incredibly talented, plus he's terribly handsome, so boys are always fawning over him. Well, would be fawning, more like, it they didn't bounce back from the three-meters-high stonewalls Blaine had erected around himself. Because said prodigy deems it undignified to have emotions, no, he's always aloof and accurate (I'm guessing he stole his personality from a movie, because there's no way such a cold person could really exist), so that's why he basically doesn't like anyone, especially me. The first emotion I have seen on his face was irritation at being forced to sit next to the amateur new kid. Now that I think about it, I dislike this formation as well. Thank you, Dalton teachers!

I moved my chair so he'd have enough space. "And a wonderful morning to you, too," I murmured, because I admit I didn't want to risk starting a conversation with him. And the reason for that? Well, it's because until now every last one of our conversations have led to arguments, all of which have ended the same way; Blaine declaring that I don't take music seriously, thus offending everyone who is dedicated. Well, when I transferred here from McKinley because of the bullying, I didn't want to take any special classes, but the only available spaces were on the music and math departments, so I thought _'Hey, New Directions was amazing, surely being part of the glee club here can't be bad.'_ Of course I instantly started learning how to sing a capella, but it's actually kind of difficult and my life is fashion, so yeah, I'm sort of left behind. In my excuse, I haven't received so many positive and encouraging comments that would make me feel ashamed of not even trying to fit in anymore.

But despite all his cruel remarks I like Blaine, because even though he never fails to point out my mistakes, he's harshest when it comes to himself.

"You have no right to speak in that offended tone. If you block the way, don't be surprised if someone points it out. It might not mean anything to you, but some of us are capable of appreciating the chance to study here." Never underestimate the ears of a musician. By the way, did I say I like him? I take it back. I mean, where did that comment come from anyway? I was just sitting here, minding my own business, not silently judging and looking down on the students (even though they'd deserve it). This guy is as self-absorbed as Rachel.

I wanted to respond by clarifying to him that he's about to turn into a very obnoxious creature and he should be alert because physically it's already begun; the height, the terrible hairstyle (I may or may not have become a creepy stalker who found out from his pictures on Facebook that he has beautiful curly hair under those layers of gel which he probably uses because of safety regulations when he rides a bike… or tries out bungee-jumping… or crashes headfirst into a submarine, because I'm sure he would survive that too)… but the bell rang, so I didn't have the chance to save him from his transformation. But according to Mercedes, he deserves everything unpleasant that happens to him, 'cause he's got curly hair which he straightens out, which is, and I quote, '_the biggest crime ever_'.

The only thing Sebastian is right about is the fact that I really should practice this a capella singing, because I keep making mistakes while harmonizing. No matter how hard I concentrate, I miss one tiny note and it throws my whole part off. And once it is off, it's not coming back. It's really different from singing solos (and let's admit I kick ass at that), and I just can't seem to grasp the essence of it. I'd ask for help, but all the Warblers are kind of unfriendly, so I usually just end up harassing Blaine, who always answers me, but I can see the Kurt in his imagination being reduced and reduced… I'm worried his seize is going to start with a minus sign pretty soon.

So, a capella practice is always a bittersweet experience – I like listening to Blaine sing because he's looser, doesn't appear so soulless and on the whole, resembles a know-it-all robot a lot less while singing. In addition, I, of course, enjoy singing, and while that can hardly be called a worthwhile experience for the other Warblers, I do it gladly and I keep diligently telling myself that that's the only thing that counts.

"Why, that was truly impressing, Kurt, you're really improving with the speed of light," and of course it's none other than Sebastian coming to torment me. "And I honestly don't know how you manage to sound so gay while imitating a violin, but you can just pull that off, trust me; you were really born for it. Unfortunately you have no talent and that's never gonna change, you know, but I enjoy listening to you, 'cause it makes me feel like a superstar."

"And wh…," I tried to reply but someone cut in.

"Instead of criticizing his singing, you should concentrate on your own," to my greatest surprise it was Blaine who volunteered his help, but I wasn't relieved; there has not been a single time when Blaine had opened his mouth and said something positive about me. I think he takes some sort of medication against it. "Even though Kurt is an amateur and has no significant talent when it comes to a capella, he's easily your equal at it, for it's a torture to hear your screeching while you try to hit a note you just can't reach, not to mention that your teeth are blocking the way of the sound."

Well, what could I say? On one hand, I can feel the tears of gratitude running down my face for the whole 'no significant talent' comment, but on the other hand… Sebastian's worried look while reaching his hand to touch his mouth was priceless. But I didn't have much time contemplating on whether I'm happy about Blaine's remark or not because a Dalton teacher came in. It was Mrs. Christopher, the somewhat fashionable French and music teacher (the red skirt is a bit _démodé_, but the scarf around her neck is a nice touch), who always announced her presence by clearing her throat.

"I'm not sure you all remember, but I announced at the beginning of the year that all students of the Music Department would be performing at our Christmas concert and I wanted to remind you that it's time to choose your songs, as from now on, you'll be practicing those until Christmas. All songs must be sung a capella, so either you team up and make an actual group or bring a CD with the background music on it. Please tell me which songs you're choosing by the end of the week, then start practicing. You only have three weeks," and then she headed towards the door.

The room started buzzing immediately as, for some reason, after such announcements everyone is always desperate to share their ideas with each other and start guessing what the others would sing. But the noise only lasted for a few seconds, because Mrs. Christopher turned back and started to speak again. "It is my personal observation that duets are always welcome among the audience, and I'd be very glad to hear different interpretations of a song. There's nothing more refreshing than a couple of well-mannered boys singing together in perfect harmony," with that she turned on her heel and left.

This last comment was very typical of Mrs. Christopher. She got married last year (so I'm told), and ever since then she's been playing matchmaker. Of course there's only so much matchmaking to do in an all-boys school, but even I noticed that the limited number of gay students only strengthened her resolve to couple them up. Women can be scary, and lovesick female teachers with time on their hands are the worst, because it's evolution that makes them go crazy – they are secure, they are happy and they want to share their felicity. And the way to do it? Playing matchmaker for the students. Maybe I'm wrong, but this seems more like a hobby for aging widows than for lively music teachers, but I'm not gonna judge her for breaking a stereotype. I looked around to see whether her words had made the desired impact.

And of course I should've known, _I_ _should've known_ that Sebastian was just waiting for an idea like this. I could practically still hear Mrs. Christopher's voice in the room, but he was already at our table, trying to engage Blaine in some sort of 'chit-chat'.

"It's very true what Mrs. Christopher said, right? About different interpretations, I mean," he paused but he got no response, so he just carried on, smiling slyly. "I'd like to do a duet myself. What do you think, Blaine? Wanna pair up?" he sent Blaine a very, and I mean _very_, explicit glance, so that his meaning couldn't be misunderstood.

"I don't do duets," the icy tone with which Blaine replied could have frozen a penguin to death, but Sebastian was never the kind of boy who could be deterred by challenging weather.

"Yeah, of course, you're awesome all by yourself. Maybe it's best if we really don't sing together 'cause you'd steal all the attention," he laughed in his falsetto, which was point-blank eerie and he leaned against my desk. That was it for me. Kurt Hummel has a lot of patience, but if that creep touches my Marc Jacobs bag, I switch into no-one-pushes-the-Hummels-around-mode.

"If you're afraid to sing with Blaine, you should probably sit down and listen to your fellow students sing sometime so you'd see what you're doing wrong, meerkat face," he turned towards me as if he'd just noticed that I was there. He seemed irritated, so I knew I was doing something right. "Because if you spent less time invading Lima Bean or styling that obnoxious CW hair, you'd probably have the chance to think over why you suck so bad. So, why don't you get the hell away from my stuff, go home, and when you come back for the Christmas concert, try to learn something from others, 'cause I'll tell you a secret now; your followers that tell you that you're good and that you're soloist material, are wrong." I was very proud of myself that I managed to tell him all that in a relatively calm and collected manner. While he was just gaping at me (well, threateningly moving his giant horse teeth), I took my bag and my books and left him there. You had this coming, Sebastian Smythe.

After that, I found what I wanted to sing pretty easily. As I didn't want to join a team, I decided to do it alone with background music and I spent a lot of time searching for the right record. I knew it had to be a capella, but I wanted it to be something more original, something more _me_. I wanted an acoustic guitar.

When I told Mrs. Christopher what I'd chosen, she seemed a bit reluctant, but she didn't really have a choice but to accept it after I swore that there would be humming in the background. She was slightly upset when I called a capella humming.

Nevertheless, she agreed to it, and a few days later she went out of her way to congratulate me on my excellent choice. She had this predatory smile on her face while doing that, which I tried to ignore, but I admit I was a bit terrified.

All the while, Blaine still refused to talk to me. Or to anyone else. Sebastian was clinging on him with unwavering enthusiasm, but it counted as a success if he got so much as a piercing glare, because other than that he only heard frustrated sighs leaving the boy's mouth. Sometimes I pitied the handsome prodigy, for Sebastian chased him with such dedication that would put professional paparazzi to shame. I think he would follow him to his dorm room if it wasn't for being afraid of Blaine requesting a restraining order. Well, no one should underestimate fanatical teenage boys, especially if their self-esteem is as high as the Empire State Building.

But Blaine deserves what he gets. For almost three and a half months we've been sitting next to each other, and yet he treats me like I'm his arch enemy. Sometimes I wonder whether I should feel intrigued that he cares so much about what I do and how I do it, or if my anger is perfectly justified when he crushes my self-regard yet again by saying something along the lines of 'You're not improving because you don't understand that in a capella there's discipline and mathematical accuracy.' When I told him that he himself is a lot looser and his facial expressions are more vivid when he sings, he looked surprised and said that those who had mastered the technique can concentrate on other aspects, such as movements, expressions, acting. Why, hello there, Rachel Berry!

I admit his condescension and his holier-than-thou attitude was driving me crazy. He acts as though he's above all human weaknesses, but it's just the arrogance talking. If he looks down on Sebastian (and boy, he does) then why does he let that guy harass him all the time? Why doesn't he just send him away? If he can't stand me then why doesn't he stop criticizing me? Isn't it because he wants to show off his talent?

One time as he was lecturing me on concentrating on the rhythm, I realized who he resembled. I told him point blank that he was exactly like Shang from Mulan, because he's a workaholic too and I even drew his attention to the fact that he, just like Shang, likes to do crazy, show-off choreography while singing. I made it very clear that I absolutely adore Mulan (both the film and the character) and screw him if he thinks he's taking the Christina Aguilera solo from me. '_But don't they get together at the end?' …_I walked away then.

Finally, after another two weeks of constant fighting with Sebastian (we both continued our cold war) the day of the concert has arrived. It was the last time Sebastian sat at the opposite side of my desk before Christmas break. And with the break would come my inner peace. At least that's what I was telling myself as Sebastian leaned over the table, pushing his rodent-like face close to Blaine's.

"I can leave if I'm disturbing," ok, arrest me, I was provoking him, but it was still a lot less reprehensible an act than grabbing his hair and dragging him back to his seat.

"Oh, it's good of you to remind me, I wanted to wish you luck in advance. I can't wait to hear your prize-winning singing again, old Betty White."

"Oh, you're not as impatient as I am to hear _your_ song. Because there's this faint hope that maybe, while you're performing, I get to wipe all the nonsense you've been blabbering about lately out of my head, not to mention this constant smell of expensive-yet-repulsive shampoo that's been bothering my nose for weeks," I could see his nostrils moving, trying to catch the smell. He was clearly upset and seemed to be searching for some sharp retort. Well, in the rulebook describing the war between teenagers, there's a very important passage; if you get the upper hand, you should play on it. In that moment I decided to do just that. "I see you need more time to come up with a witty response, so if you don't mind I'm just gonna go and see the list of the performers until then," with that I left quickly, denying Sebastian the chance to shout something after me. I think the author of the rulebook of teenager's war would be proud of me.

After that I went to look for Mrs. Christopher to check whether there wasn't a mistake on the list. It's understandable that Blaine and his back-up singers would perform last (save the best for last, yes, yes), but why am I singing right before him? That's just cruel. I mean, what's the angle here? Would I be so terrible that only Blaine's exceptional talent can save the audience from some kind of permanent damage? Or is she getting back at me for calling a capella humming? Let's show everyone how incapable I am by having the music prodigy sing right after me, probably entrancing the audience with a perfect song?

But Mrs. Christopher told me that everything was gonna be fine and I should give her some credit, because she knows what she's doing. Well, I didn't. When I asked her why the song titles weren't included on the list, I was met with that terrifying predator's smile.

Consequently, I had no choice but to wait and see how things would turn out. I listened to the songs of my classmates and then I sang my song. I was kind of popular – turns out people love acoustic guitars more than boys' harmonizing (New Directions's gonna kick our ass at Regionals). But the real surprise was just coming.

After I left the stage I saw Blaine (well, a figure because I didn't really want to meet his eyes) climb up, but I remained backstage, opting not to sit down for just one song. And then began Blackbird by The Beatles. The song I had been singing just a moment ago. Then it sunk in. _We chose the same song._

Of course it was different from my version, as it was purely a capella and it sounded great, but somehow it didn't wipe out my performance. The two versions seemed to blend together and the effect was stunning. Blaine got a standing ovation.

In seconds he was standing before me.

"Congratulations, you very really great," his singing couldn't be described as simply 'great', but at the moment it was all I could muster.

"The applause was for you as well," Blaine was obviously struggling to find words. "It seems I did sing a duet in the end."

I really had to laugh at that, and to my utmost surprise I saw him smile for the first time in our four month long acquaintance. "Sebastian must be very disappointed it wasn't him."

Blaine responded without missing a beat. "I'm sure he'll get over it. I'm afraid he's more interested in boys and looks than in music," it was obvious from his tone that he knew exactly what 'boys' Sebastian was interested in. That was a typical, show-off comment that only a teenage boy would say, but I didn't really mind. In fact I decided that the slightly cocky grin that accompanied his words was not entirely unbecoming of him.

And it's not like I could stop smiling when I could mock Sebastian without being deemed ill-disposed, "Why yes, an evening at Supercuts and his inner peace will surely be restored. Although with all the comments recently, he might just consider going bald."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: So, chapter two is up, I hope you'll enjoy it. I was very grateful for the reviews I got for the first chapter and I sincerely hope that I'll get more for this one. Have fun reading!  
**

Chapter 2

It was the first day of school after the Christmas holiday and I already knew I was going to have a terrible day. You might be wondering how I knew that. Well, maybe I can predict the future. Or maybe I know Blaine Anderson well enough to be sure that meeting him today would be very uncomfortable and for once it was actually one hundred percent my fault.

So here's what's happened; two days ago my phone started ringing and it was an unknown number. Now, for someone of my experience (by that I mean being on the receiving end of intense bullying for years) it seemed likely that it would be a hate-call… probably something about me not deserving to live for another year, or, if it was Karofsky, then a male voice begging me to kiss him on New Year's Eve. I had a nightmare about that once (Karofsky claimed I was the best kisser ever, but instead of being flattered, I was sort of terrified)… yeah, it wasn't so funny then, but I was starting to see the irony now.

Anyway, with this disturbing image in my head I answered the phone only to hear the words "_This is Blaine Anderson, I need to…"_And that was also the last thing I heard. Seriously. I was so surprised that Blaine would call me, that it wasn't Azimio's heavy breathing, that I accidentally hung up. But let me get something straight; it's not true that I squeaked or shrieked or anything. Finn can say whatever he wants, I only let out a very dignified, quiet, manly yelp, which was perfectly understandable given the situation. I didn't scream. I didn't.

And this was the first time I had to face Blaine after hanging up on him. I imagined he wasn't very fond of me at the moment, and considering how hostile he normally was towards me, I was terrified to go to class and sit down next to him now. What if he kills me? What if his followers kill me?

In the end I gathered up all my courage and went in. Blaine was already sitting there. I'm gonna die.

I smiled at him sweetly (hey, what if he had forgotten?) and greeted him cheerfully, "Hi, Blaine! How was your week?"

He glared at me murderously. So he hadn't forgotten anything. "My week was ruined thanks to you."

Ok, now I felt bad. I mean, we had made some sort of progress at the concert (he smiled at me and wasn't very far from flirting with me, even) and maybe he was calling to talk to me. Maybe he wants to be friends and I didn't call him back because I chickened out! Oh, god, that's why he hadn't tried again – he thought I didn't want to talk to him. Great, Kurt, scare the only boy away who was maybe willing to talk to you. Way to go.

I was snapped out of my reverie by Blaine. "Well, that's not true of course, although your rudeness was very irritating, especially considering it was the holidays. You should be more civil now that you're a student of such a prestigious school as Dalton," I was speechless. This guy was impossible! I couldn't believe I thought he tried to contact me out of unselfish reasons. If I get any stupider I'll turn into Azimio. Well, his handsome version. Here's a thought; I'll become a supermodel and when they ask me what I want the most I'll say world peace and Blaine Anderson's destruction. "I was calling to ask you for a favor but it doesn't matter anymore," he sounded sort of sulky now, but I wasn't so easily fooled; Blaine Anderson didn't care enough to be offended.

"What favor? Need help rebooting your system?" Damn you and your robotic ways, Anderson, you try to insult me and I cut you. The scary way. The way Mercedes taught me.

He frowned and glared at me again. "I said it didn't matter," with that he turned away. I got the message; conversation over. And I wasn't killed. That went well.

Anyway, I shouldn't bother getting worked up because of Blaine Anderson, he's incurable. I'd better just enjoy the silence before some sly comment (I looked around on instinct, searching for Sebastian) ruins it. And there he was, Mr. Alfa Chipmunk himself, wearing a very satisfied smirk on his face. It was directed at me. Yikes. He must have seen that Blaine and I were fighting. But I guess I should be grateful, for at least he wasn't coming any closer. Maybe he could sense Blaine was in a bad mood, like they had some kind of inner connection. The ultimate dream of a fanboy. Or a stalker.

Blaine continued to sulk for the rest of the day. It was actually unsettling because this time he wasn't cold or distant, no, he was point-blank snappy. That meant he was either upset because of me or he was PMSing. Hm. As a fellow gay guy I probably shouldn't be applying mean stereotypes, but I just couldn't believe that it was really me who caused his dark mood. By the way, I was told by a helpful classmate that ruining Blaine's mood was a punishable offence at Dalton.

The next day it turned out that it was indeed me who had committed the worst possible crime ever, for Blaine decided to grant me the great honor of talking to me and informed me that it seemed he really did need that favor after all. I use the word inform because he didn't ask me or anything. In fact, if it didn't hurt my pride to admit it even in my mind, I would say he commanded me. I asked him what exactly this favor meant.

"My family is hosting an event. It's a sort of private get-together for designers and I'm a host and a performer at the same time. I don't really know what to wear and you seem like you know a lot about clothes, so… I don't want to make a fool out of myself." _A private party for designers? Is he being serious?_ He must have seen my incredulous expression for he went on, "As a performer, it's important I make a good impression."

Of course Blaine would only care about his clothes to enhance the impact of his performance. He doesn't understand what he'll be surrounded with, the lucky Richie Rich. When will my father ever be able to host parties for designers? Probably when I learn how to carve them out of tires.

When I realized Blaine was still waiting for my answer, the thought struck me that Blaine wasn't sure I'd help him. He actually needed a favor and he would be lost without me. He had to give me whatever I asked for in return. "Why, yes, of course I'll help you," I used my most evil tone. "Obviously you're gonna owe me one, but I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, right Blaine?" he tried to hide it, but he actually gulped when I said his name. Who said I wouldn't have made an excellent actor? Have a look for yourself; here's Blaine Anderson, terrified at the sight of Kurt Hummel, his future tormentor. I love my acting skills.

That happened on Tuesday. In the end we decided to meet at his house on Friday. The party was going to be next Saturday, so if we had to buy something, we'd have a lot of time for it. As the week passed by, it became obvious that Blaine was more afraid of what I'd do to him, than performing before fashion celebrities. I admit I had no clue what to ask from him when it came to the favor he owed me (well, was gonna owe me), but I wanted something that would make him less proud and uptight. I also wanted revenge for not inviting me to the event, because Blaine knew I was into fashion, so he could have offered me to come.

I didn't want to ask him, for I refuse to beg Blaine for anything, but as I realized I was going to miss meeting all my idols (except for the queen, who I will meet someday, even if I have to break in to Buckingham Palace for it), I became quite upset and I started taking it out on Blaine. It's all right, he deserves it, but because Sebastian was always around, he noticed how much I wanted to go and I didn't like the idea of him knowing my wishes. Call me paranoid, but I had a feeling he'd want to crush them. By the way, Sebastian was not so mean to me lately, so I was extra alert when talking to him. I could see it on his rodent face that he was planning something. Well, newsflash, Smythe, you can't surprise someone who's been bullied for a long time, 'cause they know never to let their attention fade.

But back to Blaine; I was irritated because he never invited me to the party, it bothered me that all those designers would hear him, talk to him, _praise him,_ and it was driving me crazy that he was _so rich_. I mean, when we arrived on Friday, I stepped into a mansion! I was considering not even trying to hide my jealousy at that point, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me envy him. I reminded myself that Blaine was going to be in my debt, so I had the upper hand. Come on, Kurt, concentrate. "Don't be a drag, just be a queen / Whether you're broke or evergreen." And they say Lady Gaga isn't a way of life.

À propos, Lady Gaga; I asked him what he was going to sing. "I'm going to be playing the piano simultaneously, so I was thinking something slower, like Hurt by Christina Aguilera," and of course it's something top 40. Just a second now, and he'll say Katy Perry. "Or Family Portrait by Pink, if it's not too melancholic."

Yeah, he's also obsessed with Pink, I just forgot it because it's more obvious when it comes to Katy Perry. I don't hold anything against these singers, but Blaine's always singing their songs and it's becoming sort of unoriginal. I haven't said anything until now because remembering Blaine's rendition of Teenage Dream (I was new and it scared the hell out of me when out of nowhere these random guys around me started singing - turns out it was an impromptu performance) always prevented me from criticizing his song choice, but even the effect of one amazing song can't last forever.

"Wow, Pink… I never would've guessed," he sensed the irony and looked at me scornfully. I remembered I promised myself not to let him see me jealous and that included not being rude to him for no reason. Ok, I'll drop the attitude, but that still left me quite a lot of room for… hm, ridiculing him. "Ah, that's too slow. These designers are modern people, they want upbeat, ground-breaking music, like Lady Gaga. You should do Alejandro." Oh, I could totally see Blaine sing _"I'm not your babe, I'm not your babe, Fernando" _in front of his family and their revered friends. Something similar must have occurred to Blaine because he looked at me incredulously. He turned red when he saw I was laughing at him.

"Please, keep your ideas to yourself, for I'm not interested in them," his words would've been very rude if not for his beet-red face. I laughed so hard I had to double over at the sight of his obvious embarrassment.

I calmed down relatively by the time we reached his room, but neither my cheerful mood, nor Blaine's distress have gone away. He finally sighed and seemed to let his irritation go. He opened his wardrobe and said, "I thought I could wear a suit or something. Step inside and have a look while I change." Ok, I was terribly excited; this was going to be the first time I'd see Blaine's clothes, and, what's more, Blaine himself in casual clothes, for Blaine was always wearing his uniform. Seriously. I have seen him only once without his Dalton blazer on. That was because he was wearing a Dalton hoodie.

Two hours later I knew for sure that Blaine looked tolerable in jeans and a T-shirt. If he wasn't so cold and distant, I would've said he looked gorgeous, but an aloof person cannot be described like that; they're sexy, but not gorgeous. The adjective is simply not right. Not that Blaine Anderson is sexy. Absolutely not. He's hideous.

Anyway, I also found him the perfect outfit. It was a black suit (let's stay smart) with a touch of modernity in the form of a crimson shirt. I advised him not to wear a tie, for it increases the whole handsome-nevertheless-poor-and-suffering musician vibe. Of course for that image he'd have to lose the gel… Wait, there's a thought.

"I figured out how you could repay me," he stopped fidgeting with his clothes at that and stared at me. "Don't slick your hair back at the concert." I wondered for a minute; was I doing this to make him feel uncomfortable in his own home while he was performing (devilish), or was I trying to make him look better and therefore helping him make a good impression (supportive)? Wait, was I going soft?

"No," that simple word restored my shaken belief in myself. I was devious. I was doing it to screw with him, because he was denying me the chance to meet with my paragons. And I wasn't about to let him get away with that.

"Oh, but you don't have a choice, Naomi Campbell. I helped you dress up and now you're paying me back." Of course I knew he could just say he wouldn't use gel, but Blaine was a dapper Dalton gentleman, so I was sure that if he promised it, he'd keep his word. In the end I settled for a little bit of gel, because even that seemed to drive him crazy. Besides, granting him just the tiniest bit of the object of his addiction may very well be a lot worse than complete denial.

I was very satisfied with myself for paying him back for all his cruelty towards me, but my merry mood was ruined on Monday already. That was because exactly at the same time I gave up all my ambitions and my resentment for Blaine and accepted that I couldn't go to the party, Sebastian came and surprised me with 'happy news'.

"So, how are you doing, gay-face? Heard you helped Blaine out with his clothes. Honestly, I wasn't surprised at all, I mean after all the practice you've done on your pink Barbie-dolls, it's just the right job for you. Except with, you know, man-clothes instead of skirts and tulles. Or did you prefer undressing Ken to Barbie?" words couldn't describe my anger. First of all, I've never had dolls. My parents bought me more intellectual toys than that (like memory games and jigsaw-puzzles), but even if I had a Barbie set, implying that I used them for such… dirty reasons is simply disgusting. This just proves how sick that guy is.

"Guess what, Sebastian? I've never had a Barbie, but that's only one of the many reasons why I'm not interested in your opinion on them. Or in your theories about how kids use them," he interrupted me.

"Yeah, that's very interesting. Anyway, I came to ask you how come you're not coming to the party?" _Coming? _He must have seen the question marks around my face, for he went on, "I mean, when I got my invite, I was so excited, and I wouldn't miss it for the world. Pity you can't come."

He was smirking, but suddenly that wasn't what bothered me the most. "You were invited?" The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted saying anything, because I didn't want to hear the answer. I already knew it and I didn't want to hear it.

His smile was almost gentle as he replied, "Blaine and I are gonna have so much fun."

So that was it. Blaine invited Sebastian. The boy he borderline hates, but at least looks down on. Even though he knew it would mean the world to me if I could go, he invited that self-centered, mean, bullying guy, who couldn't even appreciate the occasion. He was only going in order to hear Blaine sing and then fawn over him for how talented he was. And that's what Blaine needed, what he desired. My whole life I've never been so disappointed in anyone, not even in Principal Figgins (even though his let's-turn-a-blind-eye managing strategy was responsible for how bad the bullying got).

So, unsurprisingly, I couldn't really get over such betrayal. I mean, yeah, it was Blaine, he didn't owe me anything, but it still hurt. I was fine with him not inviting me (we weren't friends after all), but going with Sebastian really hit home. I couldn't even look at Blaine the whole week. The hypocrite even tried to strike up several conversations, thanking me for my help, assuring me he wouldn't gel his hair back, lecturing me on my background-singing skills, but I kept ignoring him. To my utmost surprise, it seemed my behavior got to him, for he was gradually becoming more and more silent; by Friday, he refused to talk anyone (including Sebastian), and had this dark aura around him. He was constantly contemplating something, but it was only after classes I got to know what.

"You've been awfully distant lately," that was rich coming from him, but it was true, so I nodded and turned to leave. "It began after you had helped me… and I was wondering if it was me who triggered something."

In any other situation I probably would've been touched by his concern (hell, by the fact that he even noticed it), but today I just felt my anger rising. Was he really so blind and ignorant that it has not once occurred to him what my problem might be? "Yeah, now that you mention it, it was you," I wasn't yelling yet, but I was shaking as I was trying to control myself. "You and your ungrateful, hypocrite, deliberately cruel manner… I mean, Sebastian… to think that you…"

He looked up at me, his expression serious and determined, and he interrupted me as if he hadn't heard what I was saying, "Do you want to come with me to the party?" I was frozen in shock, and luckily he carried on, granting me more time to collect myself. "I can bring a plus one and I've been thinking about how much you love fashion… you want to go, correct?"

I was trying to think. Sebastian said they were going together, so how could Blaine invite me as well? I needed to think this over again, but it was awkward just standing there and not responding. "Yeah, I… I want to go. I mean, if I can." That meerkat lied to me. He had me thinking they were going together to mess with me. He must have gotten an invitation of his own.

As Blaine explained once again that he could invite someone (stating it was not a date, as if I'd ever go out with an icicle… I mean what am I? A desperate polar bear? ), it all somehow clicked in my mind; Sebastian had been boasting about his state's attorney dad and his designer mom to Blaine for ages. It all made sense; Sebastian's mom was invited and she was taking her little son with her. And Blaine invited me. I started grinning at the thought of Sebastian's face when he sees me among the guests.

Blaine, totally unaffected by my change of mood, continued talking about how I should be respectful towards the other guests and try not to embarrass him and definitely make no assumptions at all, but I couldn't pay attention to his words anymore. As the news sank in, as I realized I was going to meet quite a few of my idols, I felt my level of happiness go up (skyrocket, to be exact), and I hugged Blaine. "Thank you so, so much." He just stood there, stunned and unmoving, and I suddenly remembered I might have crossed some sort of line, but I couldn't care less.

I was already thinking about how much I had to do, and I heard myself start rambling about clothes as I pulled away. On our way out, I told Blaine I had to go shopping and think about what I'm going to say to my favorite designers and how much I'm looking forward to this, and I'm sure I didn't make too much sense, but Blaine never interrupted me. After he said goodbye, I realized he was probably feeling guilty for not inviting me sooner, but he could've called me a crazy fanboy for all I cared, because I was going to meet my future colleagues. At the moment, I loved my life, I loved Blaine and I was bursting with joy.

It was only when I got to my car that I realized having feelings for Blaine wasn't the result of sheer gratitude. Oh no. I was a polar bear; I was standing in the middle of the big, white nothing, surrounded with icebergs. And I was falling in love with Blaine Anderson.

**A/N: please review! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Well, this chapter is a bit angstier than the last two, but only because it's sort of a climax. I feel I should mention that the next chapter will be the last. But until then, enjoy this one! Also, don't judge the characters too much, they're, like, 17...**

Chapter 3

I couldn't believe my eyes as I stepped into Blaine's house for the second time; sure, it looked rich even back then, but now it was a proper castle. Elegant furniture, high ceiling, huge chandeliers. And in the middle of it all the celebrities of the fashion industry. Everywhere I looked, at the tables, near the windows, in the seats surrounding the piano, were my favorite designers. I could practically see Tinker Bell above their heads spreading success and fame from her wand in small golden sparks. I hoped such qualities were contagious.

Only… two seconds later when my eyes landed on Sebastian, I suddenly wished they weren't. I still haven't gotten over the fact that the real-life version of Timon had tricked me into thinking he was invited by Blaine. I mean, yeah, that's what you'd except from him, but I was really disappointed in myself for giving him any credit. Fortunately, my dissatisfaction with myself only lasted until I realized that no one will know about my naïveté unless I tell them (not happening) or Sebastian babbles it out, but I doubt his version would make much sense: _'Hey, Mom, have I told you about how I had Kurt believe that Blaine invited me to the party instead of him and he got really jealous?' 'Wasn't that mean, darling?' 'No, it was just my usual routine of torturing him, nothing he's not used to.' '…'_

Yeah, that's not happening either. Anyway, I was far too busy to care about Sebastian at the moment; I was more preoccupied with my recent revelation. The one involving Blaine, that is. Back in the parking lot (and later on the way home, in the bathroom, on the phone with Mercedes and right before I fell asleep) I decided not to show it. I wouldn't let Blaine see I'm in love with him, because a) he already has four billion too many admirers, and b) he might not reciprocate and that would be plain humiliating. I'm not repeating the 'Finnasco' or the 'Samberresment' (Brittany came up with the names, claiming that if I used only one word, then the whole memory would seem shorter as well… I still have my doubts, but the concept is appealing), because frankly, I don't feel like dealing with any more rejection in my life for the next few years. Go ahead, call me a coward, but I dare you to be constantly criticized for your sexuality even though it only exists on paper.

So yes, I would love to find myself a boyfriend, and I kind of want Blaine to be the one, but I'm tired of chasing others. Instead, I'm gonna show Blaine how absolutely fabulous I am, so he will be the one doing the chasing, and for the first time in my life I'll feel wanted. The only little detail I still have to figure out is how not to blush whenever I think about him. Or how to hide my newfound feelings. Or how to make him like me… never mind the fact that up until now he's been a total jerk to me and sort of looks down on me and disapproves of my attitude towards music. Now that I think about it, it's not entirely unlike Finn's initial behavior towards Rachel, and look at them now – a happy couple intending to stay together forever (and they will, given that the speed of time, including the approaching of aforementioned forever, accelerates to light speed and the end of the world comes in about two months, but let's not indulge in mean-albeit-appropriate predictions). So, my task is easy; I have to act like Rachel to get Blaine. I'll just have to constantly stalk him, harass him, make embarrassing videos starring us and a few other guys just for the hell of it, and make him jealous while singing in a library with random strangers. Easy-peasy… Yeah, and that's why I don't chase people anymore.

All in all, you could say that I don't believe Rachel and Finn will go the distance, I doubt that molesting others can get them to like you and I'm more or less convinced that Blaine isn't and very likely will never be interested in me. So I'll act as if I didn't care about him either and hope that maybe this is just a phase for me and I'll eventually fall out of love.

It was a good thing I summarized all my plans, because a second later Blaine appeared before me, letting me prove how uninterested I was in him.

"Hi, Kurt, I see you've come," said Blaine in quite a cheerful way. I guessed he was excited about his performance, for he usually wasn't so at ease. I observed showing emotions suited him very much, which thought instantly made me blush (so much for proving anything).

"Honestly, did you have any doubts?" I was desperately counting on his Rachel-like self-absorption, because if he accidentally started paying attention to me now, he'd notice my beet-red face. I really didn't want him to ask me what was wrong while I was mentally debating whether he looked more handsome or adorable.

In a second it turned out I had nothing to worry about, "No, I know you're unstoppable when fashion calls. I was just worried about if you managed to purchase all the clothes you wanted to for tonight. I happen to remember the list was long," I glanced at him suspiciously; was he ever so subtly trying to criticize me? "Actually, I've been watching the news, waiting for the announcement that the police had to arrest a local young man for refusing to leave the mall. I was concerned."

At first I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to laugh or take offense at Blaine's words, but it was so unlike him to make fun of anything (much less anyone) that in the end I burst out laughing. He was grinning as well.

"As interesting as that sounds, I'm not planning on becoming a TV celebrity until I open my first clothing line. And rest assured, you won't learn it on the news, for my very first task will be informing my number one supermodel about it," I winked at him. "A.k.a. you."

At that he rolled his eyes and started dragging me towards the piano. As he instructed me to sit down and wait for him to start performing (highlighting that it wasn't necessary for me to talk to anyone, introduce myself and, most importantly, tell anyone that I'm his guest – I honestly thought he was joking, but my suspicions arose as he guided me to a dark corner in the back) I caught Sebastian's eye. He looked furious.

My confidence returning, I left the terrible seat and walked to the front. Sebastian quickly followed. "Why, hello, Kurt. I never knew you were coming. Tell me, how much crawling did you have to do to get Blaine to invite you? And here I thought you had principles." he was snickering. He probably noticed that his smug expression makes my blood boil, but I refused to let him ruin my mood. No one messes with Kurt Hummel. Especially not the criminal chipmunk.

"No, Blaine asked me to come with him. Apparently, he desired my presence here… unlike yours. By the way, why are you here again? Oh, silly me, I forgot; your mother brought you along," I replied with an angelic smile on my face. Sebastian can twist the truth as much as he wants, but the fact remains that I won this time.

"Really?" he was trying to smirk again, but fell short and landed on sour instead. "'Cause from where I was standing, it sure as hell looked like you were… how to put this nicely...? coquetting." Okay, that took me by surprise. I have no excuse for my response but the momentary short-circuit in my brain that prevented me from thinking ahead.

"Jealous?" As soon as I said it, I knew I made a mistake; I more or less agreed to being a slut. Great. Just what Sebastian needed.

He stayed silent for a second (oh my god, did he really envy an alleged hook up between Blaine and me? How disgusting can one person be?), but then he regained his composure, "Of what? I know you don't put out to anyone, grandma. That's why you're gonna die a virgin," with that he left. I shrugged. Of course I'm not gonna throw myself at everyone and it's a bit hard to find a steady boyfriend given that no one in Dalton really speaks to me. So who cares what Sebastian thinks? He's just bitter about not finding his way into Blaine's pants.

I suddenly realized that the people around me were taking their seats, so I sat down as well. When Blaine emerged, I noticed he wasn't wearing hair gel and looked slightly awkward in his suit. Other than that, he was perfectly handsome. It was just occurring to me that his hair must have been loose in the door, too. How could I not notice that?

Suddenly, he started singing Ben by Michael Jackson. I have two comments regarding that; first of all, it was an unexpected choice, but it sounded really good on the piano and second of all, I totally love this song. I kept thinking about the coincidence, and it turned out I was so lost in thought that I missed the rest of his performance. Oops. But based on all the clapping, I guess the other numbers must have been pretty awesome as well.

We were then to sit down for _soufflé au chocolat_, and Blaine accompanied me to the huge table in the drawing room and we sat down together. Now was my chance to charm him. Too bad I couldn't really talk about the obvious topic – his show – for long, since I could hardly ask him what he had been singing again. Then again, how could I not mention it? Before I could get a headache, I decided contemplating was for monks and philosophers and ordinary homo sapiens sapiens like me usually just wing it. I was a bit concerned, for such an approach wasn't exactly my strong suit.

"You were magnificent up there. I especially loved Ben, it's actually a favorite song of mine… despite, you know, that's it's not from a musical," I realized I was rambling, but it was like watching others in the waiting room of a hospital; you know you shouldn't do it, but you just can't stop. I should've been a lot more worried about that winging it because I was doing a pretty terrible job. I was mentally slapping myself as I went on, "I mean, I usually don't like Michael Jackson, but I had a friend in elementary school called Ben and we used to sing it to him all the time, and I guess it just brought back memories…

By the time I finally managed to convince myself to shut up, I steeled myself, fully expecting Blaine to leave or look at me with pity in his eyes (why would I overshare with him like this, after all, if not for the fact that I didn't have other friends to tell this story to?). But on the upside – he sure as hell wasn't going to ask for my opinion on the other songs now.

My jaw dropped so low when he actually started answering me that I think I could have swallowed a seal at that moment. In whole. "Last year at Dalton there was a trend to ask everyone you met the question 'Are you friends with Ben?'. It of course meant 'Are you friends with benefits?', but a lot of students and teachers didn't get the joke at first. It lasted for about two weeks, but eventually everyone figured it out and then it wasn't funny anymore."

He said all this very seriously and I had to smile. For a moment I could imagine a younger Blaine running around on campus asking everyone if they were friends with Ben, but then I reminded myself that Blaine hadn't been such a little boy last year and he was probably hating every minute of others playing such unworthy games at the grand and prestigious Music Department. Still, Blaine was sharing something personal with me, for the fact that he remembered it meant that, for some reason, he considered it important. I loved how he was opening up to me and I desperately wanted to know why such a silly thing would've stuck in his mind.

Before I had the chance to ask, a woman sat down opposite us, followed by a young man. As the boy turned to face us, I was met with Sebastian's ugly horse-like expression. My eyes turned towards the woman, who I immediately recognized; it was Mrs. Smythe, the designer. I hated the fact that she was Sebastian's mother, but I had liked her clothes even before I met her son, so even though she'll never be my favorite designer now, I had decided not to discriminate. I hereby admit I own many a beautiful scarf from her autumn collection. Shame on me?

"…Anderson, who I've talked so much about. He's extremely talented, don't you think? I've always told Blaine that he should perform more and look at him now, taking my advice and seducing the audience with his smoky tenor," at that Sebastian sent a flirty smile in Blaine's way, but it bounced right back off the curly haired boy's stony gaze. I wondered how Sebastian wasn't embarrassed to do this in front of his mother. Then again, I always wondered how he wasn't embarrassed to do this - period.

Mrs. Smythe started speaking. "It's very nice to meet you Blaine. Let me say you did very well just now, I was amazed. Sebastian's always telling me how talented you are, but I haven't really believed him before," Wow, she was a proper lady. She was elegant, graceful and not the slightest bit condescending. She and Sebastian shared fewer similarities than Rachel and Mother Theresa. She smiled at me, "And who might this young man be?"

I think I sort of blushed, because it was Mrs. Smythe taking an interest in me after all. "This is Kurt Hummel, Blaine's guest," it didn't escape my notice that Sebastian wasn't referring to our relationship, which made me suspicious; either his mother knows his opinion about me all too well or she is perfectly ignorant of it. Either way, this introduction didn't really do me justice, so I decided to expand it a bit, but I never had the chance to do so.

"Kurt and I sit next to each other at school and last week I asked Kurt to pick out an outfit for me for tonight. I offered him to come so that he can get all the credit for his work," apparently Blaine agreed with me on the necessity to explain why I belonged to fashion celebrities. Although he made it sound like it was difficult to find him something, I kind of liked posing as an expert.

"Oh, so you were the one who chose Blaine's outfit? I'm impressed," oh my god, Mrs. Smythe was approving of my fashion sense. I think I've got a boy-crush on Sebastian's mother. "Are you interested in fashion?"

"Yes, it's my life! I mean, I'd like it to be my life…" okay, I've probably blushed more this evening than a young maiden protecting her virtue. I tried to pull myself together and after I caught sight of Mrs. Smythe's understanding expression, my composure returned from its long journey to Australia. "I plan to study fashion at university."

"I appreciate your determination. If you feel up to it, I can test your proficiency now," and thus, we began to talk. I honestly don't know what Blaine and Sebastian did, for I was so preoccupied with our conversation that I doubt I even looked at them in the next half an hour. Mrs. Smythe was truly amazing and she was very pleasantly surprised at my extensive and detailed knowledge of anything connected to fashion. After we finished our discussion about Alexander McQueen's latest pieces, she turned to Sebastian. "How come I've never heard of this exceptional young man, Sebastian? If I knew about him before, I would already have offered him a summer job at the office. What do you think, Blaine? The two of you could come together! I hear you're Kurt's first model. We could set up a small cabin for you, where Kurt could design and you could change – it would be so much fun," it actually sounded like a lot of fun, and I wasn't about to complain, seeing that she was planning us an ongoing, private, weeks-long date. Blaine was wearing a neutral expression, so I was sort of hoping he'd agree to it. Sebastian, on the other hand, looked furious at the thought of Blaine and me working together.

"But Mom, you can't just set them up like that," when he noticed his mother's confusion, he quickly added, "Not without me. Blaine, Kurt and I are best friends, so you can hardly leave me out. I warn you I know where the office is, so all secrecy is in vain."

Mrs. Smythe laughed at that and assured him she wouldn't exclude him if we are the real-life Golden Trio. Meanwhile, I almost choked on my drink. I was aware that Sebastian was desperate, but this was seriously crossing a line, as I knew for sure he'd sooner make a roll of toilet paper his best man at his wedding than consider me even a nodding acquaintance. But I was sitting in front of his mother, with whom I've just had a fabulous conversation, so what was I gonna say? I couldn't exactly stand up and start denying.

Something similar must have occurred to Blaine, for he stayed silent, too. Or maybe he just didn't care. You can never tell when it comes to him. For all I knew, he could either be planning outfits or plotting Mrs. Smythe's murder. Sebastian still didn't look satisfied, but you could see he had calmed down a bit.

After the incident, I didn't feel like dealing with fellow teenage boys, so I rather picked up my discussion with Mrs. Smythe where we left off. We continued talking for the rest of the evening and she said I had potential. She also introduced me to a few of her colleagues, so I was over the moon that night. I felt slightly guilty for neglecting Blaine, but then I remembered how he constantly ignored me at school and suddenly, every trace of shame was gone. Blaine had to know I'd talk to designers (you'd think that's why he invited me in the first place) and every time I looked at him, he was talking with Sebastian anyway. So, I let myself indulge in the pleasure of spending time with people who understood fashion, who didn't think my obsession was ridiculous or girly and who I admired to no end.

On Monday I was still singing Walking on Sunshine in the car. On repeat.

When I walked into my classroom, I was certain that nothing, not even Sebastian would be able to ruin my mood. I sat down next to Blaine and told him that Saturday was beyond awesome and I loved every minute of the party. He stared at me, but said nothing. I was a bit unsure, so I put on a smile and complimented him on his performance. His response was like a cold shower.

"I'm flattered you'd remember it in the midst of all the merry memories of your conversations with the guests," his tone was so dry I forgot to breathe for a second. It wasn't unlike Blaine to be distant, but this humorless sarcasm sounded unnatural coming from him. I literally didn't know what to say.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

His gaze remained cold. "I was trying to hint that I regret ever inviting you. I looked like an idiot with my guest chatting everyone up, ignoring me and having fun on his own. I've never felt so unnecessary in my life. The only thing consoling me was that at least I didn't disturb you, otherwise I'd be owing you an apology now," I tried to think clearly, but his sarcasm was really throwing me off. It was as if I wasn't even talking to Blaine. I didn't feel like I'd done anything wrong, but then why did my stomach turn into a small, aching knot?

"Blaine, I… I think you're overreacting a bit. I'm sorry if you felt neglected, but you were talking with Sebastian, so I wasn't really leaving you alone. I apologize if I offended you, but this was a big opportunity for me," the coldness was slowly disappearing, being replaced by anger instead. "I… you must understand; I'll never have a chance like this again and that's why I can't regret taking it. Meeting all those people was a dream come true for me and you know that. I-I'm not going to apologize for talking to my idols – anyone would've done the same."

Yes, he was full-on angry now, although I still wasn't sure why. It couldn't be this whole you-were-talking-to-others-instead-of-me stuff, for Blaine's never been petty and I refused to believe that this issue was a big deal.

"I don't doubt it for a second that you took the opportunity, Kurt, for it seems you've been doing that a lot lately," I felt the tiniest bit relieved; he was finally willing to tell me what his problem was. Also, now he was whispering angrily, which meant that the terrifying emptiness was gone from his voice. "Tell me, did you brag to everyone about how we were in a relationship? Did you also describe the details? Because I'd hate it if you forgot that."

…What the hell? I felt like I missed a huge part of this conversation here. My estimation was around three hundred dialogues. "What are you talking about? What relationship?"

He was practically hissing now, "Sebastian told me how you explained to him that we were hooking up. You know, it's one thing to use me to start building your career, and it's entirely different to make stories up about us going out and… doing whatnot."

"What do you mean I'm using you? Because let me remind you, Blaine, that I never asked you to invite me, you were the one who offered it," by now I was fuming as well. "And as for that other nonsense, I did not make anything up, because we are not in a relationship and I know that. Besides, I wouldn't confide in Sebastian about my private life for he cannot be trusted. And you shouldn't believe everything he says either."

"You don't have to remind me of your rivalry with Sebastian; you two have been bothering me ever since you'd transferred. I can't tell which of you is more at fault, but I know something for sure; Sebastian told me he saw us talking together and when he mentioned it to you, you claimed we were very close now because we were having sex. Why would you start a rumor like that, Kurt? Is that how you define 'private life'?"

I paled. It was a very twisted interpretation of a stupid outburst. "That's not how… not like that…"

He interrupted me, "Can you say now that Sebastian was lying?"

I hesitated for a tiny heartbeat and that was enough for Blaine. He turned his head away and slid to the seat on his left. Meanwhile, I was torn. He clearly wasn't about to hear me out and I didn't want to start explaining the situation to his back. Instead, I tried to clear my head.

I was still certain I hadn't done anything wrong or despicable, but even if I had, I don't think I'd deserve such behavior. It was very unfair of Blaine to refuse to listen to my side of the story. This wasn't the Blaine I knew, who didn't use hair gel because he promised he wouldn't, who sang a sort-of-duet with me, who was starting to open up to me. He wasn't even the old Blaine who'd lecture me constantly about music and a capella. This was Blaine under Sebastian's influence; offensive and judgmental. It broke my heart to think that I might lose what we have, but explaining anything to this Blaine would've been of no use.

Half an hour ago I could practically touch the progress we'd made; Blaine wasn't very condescending towards me anymore (well, at least he didn't mean it), he initiated conversations and he shared memories with me. Now he turned his back on me because of one provocative, heat-of-the-moment comment. I felt betrayed; wasn't Blaine supposed to trust me? Because I trusted him. It was a low blow to realize he didn't care about all the moments that I treasured.

For the rest of the week we didn't say a word to each other.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: So, as promised, this is the last chapter. Have fun!  
**

Chapter 4

My week had been horrendous. Literally no one was willing to talk to me. They somehow got wind of the new trend introduced by Blaine (it was comically easy to spot), which could shortly be described as 'the bluntest way to avoid noticing the existence of one Kurt Hummel' and they began to follow it right away like the obedient lot they were. Actually, they hadn't really been seeking my company until now, either, but this week they managed to avoid eye contact, any sort of physical contact and they were continuously ignoring my every statement or attempt at striking up a conversation. I was so sick of being emotionally bullied I was starting to miss McKinley. Hell, I was starting to miss Karofsky and that's a really high bar.

To lessen my immense loneliness and sorrow, I called Mercedes and proposed we hang out. We were on the phone for hours and she filled me in on every glee-related gossip. Apparently, junior prom was coming up and the girls were having trouble finding suitable dresses. Hardly surprising; prom dresses were designed to make you look fat and ugly and, in some cases, give you a discreet blue/red/pink glow, depending on the color of your outfit. Not to mention that the corsage was unfashionable and outdated.

Mercedes also described me their idea of the 'prom budget', which I, on one hand, found sweet because it meant Sam could attend, plus neither Mercedes nor Rachel would have to go alone, but on the other hand was terrifyingly plebeian considering that they had about ten bucks per prom dress. I honestly doubted they could find anything remotely acceptable, however, I tried to be of service and suggested that Rachel needs something simple like a pink dress (the ballerina type) and Mercedes would look extremely pretty in a bright color like cyclamen or red. Obviously tight and adult-like, because she was born to pull off the mature diva look.

But there's only so much advice you can give through the phone and I was already psyched about prom, so I quickly called the other girls to ask if they needed a keen and trustworthy advisor. I knew better than to ring Quinn (whose taste in dresses is almost as impeccable as mine in, well, clothes) or Tina (she has been responsible for our costumes for almost two years now, after all), but the others all picked up on the first ring. Score.

So, next Saturday, I found myself surrounded by grateful and eager girls (it's such a rare occurrence to find shopping partners like that when I go to the mall) and I knew I was in the right place. I fit in, even though I'd just met Lauren (by the way grateful and eager; she had Puck so whipped it was ridiculous), and in a couple of hours, I managed to find everyone the perfect dress. I know, I know, I'm not supposed to praise myself, but when I looked at Santana in red or Lauren in navy blue, I just felt a surge of pride swelling in my chest. I could totally do that summer job Mrs. Smythe had offered.

After we'd parted ways, I stayed behind and went shopping for myself. A few scarves and skinny jeans later even I was exhausted, and my feet hurt so much that I had to sit down in a café upstairs. As I was drinking my grande non-fat mocha, a boy called out my name.

"Kurt? Is it really you? I haven't seen you in, like, forever. Getting any much desired solos lately?" and suddenly, Jesse St James was sitting down next to me.

"What are you doing here?" My instant reaction was to look around and search for members of Vocal Adrenaline. "I warn you I'm allergic to eggs, so if you're planning something, I'll sue you for assault and battery."

He started laughing. "You never change, Kurt, do you? Always so prepared to fight," he sent me a friendly smile. "I'm visiting my uncle, you know, he lives in the district, and wanted to get out of the house a bit, so here I am." He made a grand gesture with his hands at that. "Actually, it never crossed my mind that I could run into someone familiar here."

And thus, we began talking. He told me how he got flunked out of school and I explained him how come I'm at Dalton for the time being. Then I accidentally mentioned New Directions, "…and Tina was so upset that I'd leave them right before Sectionals. It was truly quite saddening, for I had been craving a solo for months, but…" I realized then that perhaps I shouldn't have brought up glee club, so I quickly stopped.

"It's okay to talk about glee, Kurt. I know I've been an asshole to you guys, especially to Rachel and I'm really sorry for all that. What I did to her… it's my one great regret. I traded love for a fourth consecutive National Championship. It was a bum deal. For a first maybe, but for a fourth, no way.

"I doubt it would've been a god deal no matter what the circumstances were. But Rachel might understand your logic better than I do. I believe she's as obsessed with winning as you are." He perked up a bit.

"You think Rachel would forgive me?"

"Well, you'll have to apologize to her first, but if you're really sorry then you should tell her either way. I'm sure she'll appreciate it." I was telling the truth; after having eggs thrown at you, the least you expect is an apology, right?

"I'm not sure she'd agree to see me, though. You know, because of last time…"

"If you wanted to see her again, you probably shouldn't have egged her then," that was very mean, which Jesse totally deserves, only that my comment seemed to get to him; he sighed and nodded with a sort of sour-yet-understanding expression and I took pity on him. I might misread signals every now and then, but after receiving so many fake apologies _('I'm so sorry for pushing you into the lockers, Kurt.', 'It was an accident, but I'm sorry for spilling my slushee on you and ruining your clothes, Kurt.'_), I recognized a genuine one. Jesse regretted his actions and while I could technically not forgive him, as I wasn't the one he'd hurt, I could help him mend his fences with Rachel. "Look, just tell her everything you've told me. Explain to her that you regret it and want to make amends. Since it's Rachel, try to accompany all that with a big musical number, she'll like that," he still didn't look convinced, so I added, "Ok, listen; Rachel loves winning more than anything, so if you help her prepare for Nationals, she'll forgive you for sure."

"Help her prepare? Like, coach her? I'm not sure if that's necessary…"

I scoffed; was he deliberately trying to misunderstand me? "What I meant was become an assistant to Mr. Schue. Give advice to everyone in the group, come up with choreography, help decide who gets a solo and what they should sing."

He grinned, "I could totally do that. I'm awesome at show choir."

"Yeah, right," I smiled back. Jesse was decent company when he tried, even though it was a bit difficult to believe he was two years older than me. "Although she might not be in the mood to deal with you or Nationals, for prom is coming up, and the New Directions is providing the entertainment, so she's really busy."

He was looking more hopeful now. "Prom? Who's Rachel going with?" I opened my mouth to reply, but he interrupted me, "No, don't answer that. If it's Finn, I don't wanna know. But wow, Rachel singing in a dress… I gotta go see that. It's been a long time since I last heard her perform and I miss her voice," that sounded somewhat cheesy, but there's a very thin line between healthy nostalgia and drooling over mutual memories. "Hey, don't look at me like that. Rachel's talented and beautiful, and she could sing Bust A Move in an orange dress, which is no one's color, and still manage to be out of this world." Rachel Berry singing rap in orange was not fit for our universe to see for an entirely different reason, but I didn't want to comment. By the way, I think I've just found my very own mailman. "I think I love Rachel. Or at least want her back real bad, so you can quirk your eyebrows all you want, Kurt. You know, they say love is blind."

_And, apparently, deaf too._ "As much as it hurts me to admit it, Jesse, Rachel is one of my best friends and I love her; we've bonded over glee, then Finn, then Broadway. So if anyone knows Rachel, it's me and that's why I'm sure she can't pull that number off, clothes notwithstanding. Your whole scenario is so wrong on so many levels, I can't even begin to describe it."

Jesse laughed again. "We'll see. It was great to see you, Kurt. I never realized how much I've missed you, too. But it's late and I gotta get back home to my family duties," he made a face, but stood up nevertheless. "Are you coming?"

And so I gathered up my bags as well. Jesse took some away from me and helped me carry them to my car. I suspected he was being a gentleman so that I would say something in his favor to Rachel, but underhandedness suited Jesse and so I let it go. If he wanted her enough to act polite and chivalrous towards me too, well then, who was I to complain?

Just as he was handing me my bags back, I noticed the doors of the mall opening and my eyes met Blaine's. I saw him staring at Jesse and me, but then Jesse was saying goodbye and I had to turn my attention back to him. I told him again to apologize to Rachel and help the group if he's serious about wanting her back. By the time he left, Blaine was gone, too.

Next Monday when Blaine arrived and sat down next to me, he turned towards me. "I'm sorry for being a jerk to you last week. I was being petty."

I couldn't have been more shocked if he had said he was a world-famous Arctic explorer who used to engage in matchmaking for walruses. I was beyond speechless.

"Kurt? I said I was sorry for my childish behavior. I was having a rough time and I took it out on you. I shouldn't have blamed you or snapped at you. I hope you know how ashamed I am and that even though I haven't told you before, I'm really grateful for your help." Yep, that was more like Blaine; bossy and condescending even while begging for forgiveness. Not very appealing qualities, but ones I could deal with.

"That's it? You're sorry? No explanation, no big revelation?" Was it just me or was Blaine being just the slightest bit inconsequential? Because his words were sure as hell making no sense to me. "Why apologize now anyway?"

He looked slightly uncomfortable. "It sort of hit me now. Well, when I saw you at the mall with that guy. It occurred to me that you were hanging out with…" he hesitated for a split second, "old friends because you felt alone here at Dalton. And after all the time we'd spent together, I realized I haven't been a good friend to you lately. And I hope that can change, you know, that we can be friends again."

Considering I was far from being over my feelings for Blaine, this seemed a pretty good idea to me. I admit I had been ashamed of myself for not forgetting Blaine when he treated me like dirt, but now I felt my trust in him was perfectly justified. He took his sweet little time to realize he had been very unfair to me, but eventually everything was going to work out. Besides, in retrospect I feel obliged to admit that while I'm nowhere near as guilty as Blaine in this matter, perhaps nor am I hundred percent faultless. So, ignoring the little voice in my head (it was going on and on about how I was in Blaine's power and how he'd made me his… hm, courtesan), I did what every faithful, God-fearing Christian person would do; I smiled widely and forgave him with all my heart. "Of course we can be friends, Blaine, we already are! Let's just put this behind us, ok?"

He looked relieved; so our relationship did mean something to him after all. "So, um… you went shopping this weekend…" Oh, my God, Blaine trying (and failing) to make small talk. It was a camera-worthy moment. He tensed up even more when he noticed I was laughing at him.

I put on a saccharine smile. "Yes, Blaine, I went shopping. Do you want to discuss what I bought? I'll gladly describe every detail to you. First I found a beautiful…" I paused as he tried to put on a neutral expression, faking curiosity. Under any other circumstances I would've appreciated the gesture, but I was messing with him on purpose now, so I went on, waiting for his inevitable shock, "red prom dress…"

I didn't even pretend I intended to go on, instead I watched his head snap up and his eyes grow huge. "P-prom dress? For girls? But why?" he was so desperately trying to understand what was going on that he ended up spluttering. He quickly backpedaled when it occurred to him our friendship might still be too fragile for such interrogations. "I-I mean…"

Apparently he thought I bought a dress for myself. Well, while I'm certain I could pull any outfit off, cross-dressing is not exactly my style. Meanwhile, Blaine was getting more and more anxious, terrified that I would take offense. I couldn't control myself; I burst out laughing. "Oh, no, no… it's junior prom at McKinley. I was helping my friends find dresses."

After that our conversation flew easily. I told him about said friends (and, to his horror, all the clothes they ended up buying), then we talked about McKinley in general and I let him in on my experiences with bullies. Sadly, that was a very familiar topic to Blaine, because he had been bullied at his previous school as well. It was quite a serious discussion for so early in a friendship (well, renewed friendship). I felt like I was in a strange kindergarten; '_Your sign is a hospital bed?' 'Mine is a pee balloon._' It would've been truly depressing, if not for the fact that I was talking with Blaine.

But, all in all, my week had been nothing short of fabulous. Blaine and I discussed music, Vogue (although his interest in fashion was nowhere near mine, he, too, appreciated the magazine, which only made me fall for him that much harder) and our planned future. Of course I already knew that he wanted to pursue a career in music, most likely performing and he was aware of my obsession with fashion, but only now did we realize that both our dreams had something in common; we were determined to live in New York. I was really glad about that, because suddenly, I was able to envision a future for us. Not romantically, for I already accepted that Blaine didn't see me like that, but as friends. Still, it was a shared future and that was all that counted.

And what was even better, Sebastian could do nothing to stop our blossoming friendship. He was forced to watch our daily interaction, but had no means to ruin our relationship. It infuriated him to no end, but every now and then, it almost seemed as if he was learning to deal with it. Never thought I'd see the day when Sebastian grew up.

Of course that didn't mean he stopped torturing me or hitting on Blaine completely, but his comments were most certainly lacking their former edge. Like on Friday after school when he stared at me (Blaine had just left) and asked me if I was really that stupid, something was off about him.

Here's what's happened: Blaine and I were discussing universities (Sebastian was within earshot, as always) and I recited him everything Jesse had told me about how he got thrown out. Blaine looked skeptical at the boy's expectations (namely that some Asian kid would show up for his math and English classes), then realizations dawned on him.

"Is that the guy who was with you at the mall? I thought he was your boyfriend."

"What, Jesse? No, he's the epic love of Rachel Berry," I smiled at the assumption; I've never considered Jesse boyfriend material, not for Rachel, not for me. "We just ran into each other and got talking. It was a bit… odd."

Blaine looked distracted. "Yes, it was odd… It's unusual to see you hanging out with anyone."

"About," I corrected. "Hanging about with anyone." Noticing his confused expression, I started to explain, "You know, the song? It's Not Unusual by Tom Jones…?" I examined his face for any sign of recognition, but found none. I began to hum the song, but soon the bell rang, so I was forced to stop. I didn't really mind it that much, because I got the feeling I was somehow embarrassing myself. I decided not to bring it up again after classes had ended.

"Kurt, do you have any plans for Tuesday?" I shook my head and Blaine went on, his words accompanied by a serious expression. "I… I was wondering if you'd go to Breadstix with me."

I felt my head go lighter; Blaine was asking me out! On Tuesday… on Valentine's Day! And I had been so sure he could resist my charms, but what do you know? I smiled, "Of course. Sure," then something crossed my mind, "Wait. Isn't that the annual Lonely Hearts Club Dinner?"

"It is. I have a gig there," I was trying very hard not to let my face fall, but it was a Herculean task. "And I would really like for you to come with me."

I was very proud of myself for not bursting out in tears. Blaine didn't want a date, he wanted audience. I was so stupid. I couldn't muster a smile again, but at least my face was blank. No shining eyes, no quivering lips, no twitching muscles. If I concentrated on the details, I could get through this. "Yes, of course I'll come with you."

"No, Kurt, you don't get it. I want you to go with me, like, on Valentine's Day. Go out," he was getting desperate I could tell, but I failed to understand for what reason. I've just told him I would go. Why stretch this conversation even furter?

I was itching to go at that point (I really didn't want to cry in front of Blaine), so it came out a little harsher than I planned, "Yes, I'll go with you on Valentine's Day, Blaine. Don't talk to me like I'm some dumb child."

I sensed Blaine was about to say something again, but in that moment I dropped my notes and he, simultaneously, seemed to think better of it. He bent down to help, but I just dismissed his intentions, so he said goodbye instead. When I reorganized everything and was about to set off, Sebastian glared at me and asked, "Are you really that stupid?" Strange thing is, it didn't sound mean. It was more pitying and resigned.

So, that happened on Friday. Despite Finn's accusations and implications, I absolutely did not spend the entire weekend pathetically moping, just… contemplating, and I told him that, too. The only time I did cry was when Finn asked me if that was a fancy word for 'concentrating'.

By Tuesday, I had accepted the fact that I'll indeed die a virgin. It was a comforting thought that, at least, I'll be the most fashionable monk that ever lived. No one can take that away from me.

On Tuesday I watched Blaine test the microphone and sighed. Things had been a little awkward these past two days, although why Blaine seemed frustrated, I couldn't fathom. I sighed again and smiled at Blaine as he began singing. He was staring at me.

_It's not unusual to be loved by anyone._

My heart stopped. Blaine looked around.

_It's not unusual to have fun with anyone.  
But when I see you hanging about with anyone,  
It's not unusual to see me cry,  
Oh, I wanna die._

_It's not unusual to go out at any time._

After observing the rest of the restaurant, Blaine looked back at me.

_But when I see you out and about it's such a crime.  
If you should ever want to be loved by anyone,  
It's not unusual,_

_It happens every day_

_No matter what you say  
You find it happens all the time.  
_

_Love will never do _

_What you want it to  
Why can't this crazy love be mine?_

Ok, I might be clueless sometimes, but I recognize a serenade when I see one, and Blaine wasn't even blinking as he sang. A love song. At me.

_It's not unusual to be mad at anyone.  
It's not unusual to be sad with anyone.  
But if I ever find that you've changed at anytime,  
It's not unusual to find out that I'm in love with you  
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh_

He was singing to everyone in the room at the beginning of the verse, but at the last three lines he looked back at me again. It was starting to sink in that Blaine had just confessed his love for me. When he finished, he exited the impromptu stage and let the next performer start singing. As I watched him disappear into the back room, I started to panic.

What are you supposed to do after a serenade? In romantic comedies the flirty heroine usually invites the daring suitor in, but what happens when you're serenaded in public? You just sit down and talk? And should you mention you understood the message? Is it polite to tell him you're aware of the fact that you're being asked out, or should you wait until he properly asks you?

Fortunately, I was so dizzy when Blaine arrived and sat down at the other side of the table that I couldn't say anything stupid. I just blushed and stared at him. I don't know if he's done this before, but he seemed to know the post-serenade etiquette well, for he started talking without hesitation, "I approve of your song selection, you know. This is a great number."

Approve, huh? Not admire, like or agree with, no, _approve_. How kind of him. I'm much obliged. "What do you mean, my selection? You were doing the serenading here," In my justified curiosity and indignation, I forgot how unnerving this situation was. I rather concentrated on the fact that he confessed to me, so I had the upper hand here. I could refuse him. Crush his every hope.

I think we both knew that wasn't likely to happen. "You sang it to me first…" he paused and put on a slightly cocky grin. "So, now that we'd both confessed our feelings for each other, I'd like to officially ask you to be my boyfriend."

I raised an eyebrow. "I didn't confess anything to you."

His grin grew wider and he replied without missing a beat, "You didn't have to," I blushed again and decided not to make this easy for him. If he had the energy to tease, he'll have the energy to woo. Or beg.

"Well, I might be a bit obvious about my feelings, but things have changed; I need a boyfriend who can afford to take me out on dates. You know, half the time, when it's him taking me out, not me taking him. And, given you'll be fired here any second now, I'm not sure you meet my standards anymore," his eyebrows furrowed, and I, still teasing, added, "Blaine, you serenaded someone in the Lonely Hearts Club. They're pissed at you for reminding them of their dateless state. You're lucky no one's pulled a JFK on you yet."

He seemed sort of serious now. "By the way date, I really believed Jesse was your boyfriend. I was insanely jealous, you know? That's why I had to apologize. I couldn't stay mad at you when so much was at risk. Besides, I meant everything I said," he paused and tilted his head. "Which reminds me; if I lose my job here, but I don't get shot, then maybe we could do that summer job together… the one Mrs. Smythe had mentioned."

My eyes grew wide with hope. "You would come and be my model? Let me dress you and measure you and work together with me in a small cubicle?"

The playful glint was back in his eyes as he smiled at me in a very sly way. "If you put it like that, I can't really refuse. Although I must ask, have you no shame, planning to undress me while I'm practically still asking you out?" he sent a saucy wink at me. He was laughing at me, I knew, but they say he who laughs last, laughs the longest. "So, will you tell Mrs. Smythe you and your boyfriend are ready to start working in June?"

I smiled at the term and nodded. "I guess I could. Although Sebastian will be there a lot now that we are best friends," I made quotation marks with my hands at the last two words. "But then again, designing is sort of worth that."

Blaine faked hurt, but he was grinning. "Designing? Not spending time with your boyfriend?" I wanted to respond, but he cut in, "Anyway… we're really doing this, right? We're boyfriends?"

I smiled at him. Blaine Anderson was asking me out, his usual aloof side gone, replaced instead by hopeful anticipation. "Yes, we are. Our first consensual date will be on this Saturday…" I shot him an innocent glance. "…when you'll also be meeting my Dad." His face was darkened by sheer horror. Oh, Blaine, you can wink all you want, but be prepared, for I can make you look like a fool, too. I let my voice trail off, "You can tell him about our plans for the summer. The undressing and measuring…"

He looked at me with wide eyes and I burst out laughing. He begged me not to tell my Dad about his, and I quote, 'rush and idiotic' comment… It got worse when I mentioned he had a shotgun. Blaine was getting desperate, terrified by my Dad's reaction to his innuendo. I couldn't really stop laughing till the end of the evening, and, for the first time in years, I was looking forward to my next day at school.

**A/n: The End. I really hope you enjoyed this story and thanks for reading! **


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